In Berkeley
by left-to-leave
Summary: Troy is enjoying college life in Berkeley, CA, until he discovers that Sharpay has recently transferred there after making a few big mistakes back home in New Mexico.


**Title:** In Berkeley  
**Rating:** almost PG-13  
**Pairings/Characters:** Troy, Sharpay, mentions of Troy/Gabriella and Jimmie/Sharpay, and one-sided (so far) Troy/Sharpay  
**Summary:** Troy is enjoying college life in Berkeley, CA, until he discovers that Sharpay has recently transferred there after making a few big mistakes back home in New Mexico.  
**Author's Notes:** This is just the first chapter in a longer work. I have an idea of where I want it to go and how I want it to end, but who knows where the characters will take me. :) **Constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated!**  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any _High School Musical_ characters and I am not making any profit from this work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Maybe we could catch a movie sometime, or get coffee?"

"That sounds really fun, but I should probably tell you: I already have a girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong, you're a great girl, but I'm taken. I'm so sorry."

Troy Bolton was used to being the boy that every girl had a crush on. He was used to deflecting girl after girl after girl who tried to wedge herself between him and Gabriella. He was used to coming up with on-the-spot rejections that were simultaneously sweet and tragic, heartfelt and generic.

College wasn't any different, so far.

His classes were harder, of course. That was different, at least. It was tough being away from Gabriella for longer periods of time; another difference. It was strange and exciting and horrifying and wonderful to live in a dorm with a roommate and a meal plan and his very own laundry card, and all the millions of differences between college and home, but he was loving every second of it.

On Monday mornings at 9:00 a.m., Troy would lazily stumble out of bed, pull on a shirt, brush his teeth, and head across campus for Introduction to Politics and Government. He would always arrive ten minutes late and recieve a disapproving but impersonal look from Professor Linton. After class, he would reach for the cell phone in his sweats pocket and smile when he saw that he had a text message from Gabriella. He would text her back and grin like an idiot for the remainder of the day.

This Monday morning was very different. Troy went to class, late as usual, but was greeted by an empty classroom and a note on the whiteboard from Professor Linton, stating that class was cancelled for the day. Troy pumped his fist in the air, proclaiming victory, and began the trek back to his dorm room. He planned to use the extra time to sleep some more, as he had gotten back late from his weekend at Stanford with Gabriella. Yes, he decided, sleep was a great idea.

Instead, he was shaken from his planning and daydreaming and remembering Gabriella's soft hands in his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of pink that he vaguely recalled seeing every day of his elementary, middle, and high school career, but he just couldn't place exactly what it was. Out of nowhere, the unidentified object had smacked into his side: he turned his head and met face to face with Sharpay Evans.

"Troy," she said, taken aback. "What are _you_ doing here?"

What was _he_ doing here? He should be asking her that! "I go here," he replied, completely bewildered. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just transferred from U of A." She looked him over. "This is weird."

She had taken the words straight from his mouth. "Sharpay Evans. At UC Berkeley. With me," he mused aloud, trying to make sense of the words tumbling in his brain.

They stared each other down for a few minutes, not quite sure what to do or say. Troy had two very distinct, very different memories of this girl. One was from elementary and middle school, when she was a sweetheart, with only inklings of the diva that would one day emerge. The other was just that: the diva. One was the memory of his best friend in kindergarten. The other was the memory of the girl who had caused him the most trouble with his girlfriend. Sharpay Evans. He had an interesting history with Sharpay Evans.

"I guess I should get to class," she said slowly, breaking the silence. She shifted her weight, waiting for a response, though she didn't know what kind of response she was expecting.

"Yeah, sure. Class."

For a moment, she looked like kindergarten Sharpay: a little girl with big dreams in an even bigger world. Then she spoke. "We probably won't even see each other, thank God. It's a big campus." She was high school Sharpay again. All that changed was the place: like a sitting duck, ready to be conquered. "See ya!"

The town of Berkeley didn't know the kind of danger it currently had, waiting in the wings of the University. Berkeley wouldn't know what hit it.

"Bye, Sharpay."

Despite the weirdness, Troy didn't think about her for the rest of the day.

* * *

It was Sharpay Evans' first day at a new school, and already she was feeling very small. She clutched a map of the campus in her hand, but she still had no idea where she was. She bustled about, a blur of pink and sequins contrasting against the concrete that was UC Berkeley, trying to find her way, or at least a familiar landmark where she could stop to find her bearings in this amazing, crazy world that was now her home. Everything had to be perfect. She would make it so.

Fate was not on her side this morning. In fact, Fate was playing a very cruel trick on her.

Well, if Sharpay was going to be honest -- which only happened somewhere buried in her innermost thoughts -- she had kind of brought this upon herself. The University of Albuquerque wasn't her first choice for college, but she had somehow wound up there, and it had felt strangely _right_ for that first semester. She still lived in her parents' house, she was doing exceptionally well in her classes, and she had a job at her former high school, helping out in the drama department. She wasn't attending Julliard, or NYU, or even taking a year off to test her wings along Broadway, like she had always imagined herself doing after high school -- but where she had ended up just seemed _right_.

Until, somehow, it wasn't.

She had broken the rules. She had allowed herself to get into a relationship that was, to put it nicely, frowned upon. In empty hallways and darkened crevices of the theater, she met up with Jimmie Zara.

She had only recently turned eighteen, but it didn't change the fact that she was technically an adult, employed by the school, and was spending all her free time with one of her fifteen-year-old students. But there was something about "Rocketman" and his stupid nickname that she couldn't keep herself away from.

He had accidentally been elected Sophomore Class Representative. He had accidentally been cast in the lead role in East High's next musical. And he had accidentally stolen Sharpay's heart about six months earlier, when he accidentally went from Troy's understudy to "Troy" and accidentally ruined Sharpay's big opportunity as "Gabriella," which she was still mildly bitter about.

If she was going to be honest -- because honesty her new favorite thing, apparently -- she still hadn't gotten over Troy. It was a daily battle. Being with Jimmie helped, but the pain of losing Troy and never having Troy in the first place thudded in the back of her consciousness at a slow but constant pace. But being with Jimmie helped, so she stuck herself to Jimmie.

It wasn't right, and she knew it, and she knew she had to break things off, but when he smiled at her and said in that stupid boy voice of his, "What's up, Shar?," the speech she had memorized in her head somehow leaked out of her ears and all she understood was _Jimmie_. And then they snuck off to a broom closet somewhere and she let him touch her in more places than she had ever allowed anyone to touch her, and it felt good and horrible and right.

But it wasn't right, and somebody by the name of Chad Danforth found out and threatened to tell on her. So she transferred schools, moved to a new state, and now here she was, scrambling to find her footing on this new campus, with no friends and no job and no idea what she was going to do next.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, so she calmed down for a moment and sat on a bench. She had a new text.

_Plz call or txt me back asap. I rlly need 2 talk 2 u Shar. Love u._

Jimmie again. The kid couldn't spell, but somehow that made him all the more adorable. And she hated that. She deleted the text.

She decided to take one last look at her campus map, and headed in the direction that she hoped was north, towards a building that she hoped was Birge Hall, but slammed into something soft, but solid. A person.

Not just any person. Troy Bolton.

Sharpay gulped. She was getting so good at forgetting him, and now here he was to spoil all her progress.

"Troy," she said, barely able to breathe. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He seemed completely unfazed. He _would_ be unfazed. They may have been best friends from kindergarten to fourth grade, but nothing ever fazed The Great Bolton. He deigned to reply: "I go here. What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just transferred from U of A." She looked him over. He looked exactly the same as he did on the day he came over to say goodbye. She thought that had been it, the last time he would ever stand in front of her and peer into her eyes and shatter her insides with the knowledge of what never was and what never could be. What was she going to say to him?

"This is weird."

Smooth, Sharpay. Very smooth.

His face was almost expressionless, but with a hint of irony. "Sharpay Evans. At UC Berkeley. With me."

Of course, it was just one big joke to him. She was just Sharpay, nothing more to him. She never could compete with his multitude of other girls throughout the years. Now wouldn't be any different, especially with Gabriella in the picture. "I guess I should get to class," she said slowly, breaking the silence. She shifted her weight, waiting for a response, though she didn't know what kind of response she was expecting.

"Yeah, sure. Class."

Another joke. Always a joke. She would just have to respond accordingly. She had to make him think she didn't care. Maybe then it would be true. Maybe then she wouldn't care. "We probably won't even see each other, thank God. It's a big campus. See ya!"

She scampered to the nearest women's restroom and cried.

* * *

{To be continued...}


End file.
